Mommy and Daddy own a waterbed, which is supported by a wooden bottom, with drawers on each side, but between the drawers is a one foot by one foot door, which can’t be opened with my paw, but I’m working on getting in, even though Mommy and Daddy don’t want me to, which is why they closed the door.
I try scratching the door and smelling the door. I can’t get in by scratching, but I smell it and it smells like burnt umber. Sometimes I use my nose to try to open the door, and one time I almost wedged it open, but then Mommy said it was time to go to sleep and put me on the sheets on the waterbed. There must be something in there that’s good, otherwise they’d just let me in. Maybe I need to think outside the bed box.
The door is impenetrable without opposable thumbs, but think of the Asian knot which no one could untie, until a famous man cut the rope with a sword. I need to think outside the bed box.
Then, it comes to me. The headboard is half a foot from the wall, but I’m 3/4 foot wide, but if I breath in and hold my breath, maybe I’ll fit. If I don’t, I’ll whimper until Mommy and Daddy save me. So, I breathe through my snout and hold it, and cautiously stampede behind the bed, and although I do scrape the skin near my ribs a bit, I make it, but I look (as best I can, since it’s dark under the bed) and all I see is carpet; the same carpet that’s outside the bed.
What a let down. It’s just carpet. I decide not to mark my territory, because it would smell and Mommy and Daddy would punish me. So, I decide to walk toward the door I tried to pull open with my nose earlier and it turns out there’s only a cloth looking like carpet in front of me and I fall down the fake floor about ten feet, and I think I’m going to die.
But I don’t die, or even break a bone. I look around and it’s strange and there’s a big sign which speaks to me (dogs can’t read) and says, “This is Dreamland, you can still turn back”.
Dreamland, that sounds like fun, so I keep going. Then, I see Daddy in a football uniform, but he’s a lot younger, like 23-years-old and he’s the running back for something called Notre Dame, and I can hear in his head, “I’m going to make it into the NFL. I’m going to play for the 49ers.”
But, I see all the coaches calling names, in Daddy’s freshman, sophomore, junior, and senior year, each time Daddy saying, “I’m going to be in the NFL. I’m on the 49ers,” or different ways of saying that, and all the coaches pick other players. I’m confused. I thought this was supposed to be Dreamland, the place where dreams come true.
But, then I see Mommy, as a little girl in pink stockings, a pink tutu, pink ballet slippers, and red lipstick, and she’s dancing on a ballet bar and she was doing splits. Then, she rehearses this one routine which she says is a borret, padeborret, plei, and a lot of other words I don’t understand, but she says she has it down, and then she auditions to be in the local girl ballet theatre, but for some reason, they don’t take Mommy and Mommy cries.
This seems weird and sad, especially since this is Dreamland, so I go and find a human and somehow the human understands me. After all, it is Dreamland. But I ask this man, Jose, why I’m seeing bad things happening to Mommy and Daddy, instead of happy dreams. Jose chuckles. He then tells me the voice didn’t read the fine print on the sign: The sign says, “Dreamland, the land where people’s dreams that have died go to rest”.
I tell Jose, I don’t like this place. I want to leave. I tell him the sign said I could leave.
Jose said, “Yes, when you first came in you were given the chance to leave, but it’s too late now. Too late. Just like the dead dreams, it’s too late to go back.
So, I spent the rest of my life (fifteen years) under the bed, trying to resuscitate dead dreams, but I always failed.